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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29925423">A place to call home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbadatlove/pseuds/imbadatlove'>imbadatlove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One and the Same [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Little Nightmares (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:34:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,537</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29925423</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbadatlove/pseuds/imbadatlove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>--</p><p><b>"Come with me."</b> He insists. He shuffles to his feet, cradling his Nome and following The Thin Man down the long hallway.  Black spots dance across his vision, bile stinging the back of his throat. Gently, a hand finds its way around him and he's lifted up and carried the remainder of the distance.</p><p>When he's set down again, he's sitting on a hard surface. The Thin Man is currently looking in a cupboard, for what RK doesn't know, but he's apparently found what he's looking for, taking out a blue box and opening it. It's medicine. The Thin Man then grabs a small cup of water and sets both it and the medicine next to RK.</p><p><b>"Take it, it'll make you feel better." </b>RK complies, washing the medicine down with the water. The Thin Man leans back against the cupboard behind him, <b>"I'm surprised you didn't get pneumonia, being out in weather like that."</b></p><p>RK doesn't respond, glancing up at The Thin Man in brief acknowledgement.</p><p>
  <b>"Do you want to tell me why you were out there? Why you were wandering The Pale City at eleven o'clock at night?"</b>
</p><p>--</p><p>Alternatively: RK is alone in The Pale City at night, cold and sick. He stumbles upon someone willing to help him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mono &amp; The Thin Man (Little Nightmares), The Thin Man &amp; The Runaway Kid (Little Nightmares)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One and the Same [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177634</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>268</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A place to call home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>OH YEAH IT'S SAD BOY HOURS</p><p>is this heavy angst? idk. tagged it as light but...eh.</p><p>NOTE: this is kind of related to 'baby sitting' and 'trouble maker' because: The Thin Man knows RK already, and RK goes to the boarding school.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nimble fingers of trembling hands weave together a collection of empty sheets and stained pillowcases, tying each end together and forming a long line of fabric. There's a sound of tapping against the door. Quiet at first, tauntingly so, picking up in a gradual tempo with every knock. Knocking becomes kicking, thrashing, and those small hands work even faster. Round and round he careens the material, louder and louder the jeering, high pitched laughter echoes around the room. There's a little grumble next to him, the sound of something skittering under a nearby bed frame. The lock of the door creaks painfully, its old and worn threshold splintering under the onslaught of fists and feet. The line is hauled off the ground, rolled up in a pair of skinny arms and cast out the open window. The other end of it is tied to a bed post, and a hand reaches towards the little creature hidden under the bed. The door buckles, unable to withstand the abuse no more, and it almost flies off its hinges. The bullies rush into the dorm room. The only sign of life they find is that of a thin curtain, fluttering in the midnight wind. </p><p>His bare feet land squarely on the cold, wet concrete, large rain droplets cascading down on him. His shaggy, brown hair and blue sweater cling to every fibre of him as he wades his way through the school playground. The little Nome clutched to his chest wriggles and shivers, presses itself even further into the soft sweater. It's dark, but no absence of light could ever hinder his ability to map out the familiar escape. Past the football goal, around the seesaw, to the fence. It's a routine, he's done it so many times now. He approaches the small hole in the wired fence, blocked off by a wooden panel, and he pushes it out the way and crawls through. </p><p>He hoists the Nome up to his shoulder, cradling it. He walks the same empty streets as he did last night. And the night before. He feels the same bitter chill as he did last night. And the night before. It's a routine. He's done it far too many times now. And he shall continue to do it, will continue to search the dangerous alleyways and collapsed buildings of The Pale City, in hopes of finding a better home. Because he doesn't have a home. Not a real one. His dingy dorm in The Pale City boarding school is more like a prison; the only reason he's there is because he doesn't have anywhere else to go. At first, the mere thought of having a roof over his head, no matter what kind it was, sounded like a heavenly luxury he thought he'd never be deemed deserving of. He'd been ecstatic to attend the school. He'd tried to make it work. But that euphoria had soon faded when the bullies turned a few sleepless nights into sleepless weeks and the daily meals turned into weekly meals. Every day he was tired and hungry. Every day he was picked on, insulted, told he wasn't good enough. It'd all piled up on top of him until he came crashing down, and thus he'd decided enough was enough, escaping every night since. Searching for a home. </p><p>He's yet to find one. </p><p>Tonight will be no different. Puddles ripple on the concrete below as the tempestuous rain grows wilder, its misty thickness obscuring his view of the street ahead. One arm tightens around the Nome, now flailing and squealing in the horrific weather, the other coming up to shield his eyes. His clothes are weighing down his limbs, every lift of a sluggish foot feeling like he's ripping it straight out of a block of cement. It's exhausting. It always is.</p><p>He's stumbling down a dark alleyway, following every one of its twists and turns like a blind and desperate stray, looking for any sort of shelter. Even a cardboard box would do. There's nothing so far, so he keeps going, and going, and going, until he discovers something that is way more appealing than a simple cardboard box. </p><p>The alleyway leads to an open street, one he doesn't think he's ever seen before. The street still has the usual decrepit complexes, and yet there, in the middle of it all, shining in the moonlight like it's a sign from a god itself, is a two-story, in tact house. It's constructed of dark bricks with a height larger than its width, like all Pale City buildings, but this one has glass windows lined with silk curtains, a triangular roof and smoking chimney, a fancy and grand set of stairs leading up to a wide arched porch. Its grandeur is out of place in a city like this, and he's drawn to it like a moth to a flame. The feeling of heavy drips on his shoulders will those tired legs to push forward, striding up to those steps with such respite he nearly trips up them. He reaches the broad door and doesn't dare knock, only presses his back to it and slides down until he's sitting, knees drawn to his chest and Nome still safe against his shivering body. </p><p>He's protected from the rain now, but not from the bite of the swirling, brittle wind. His teeth are chattering and every inhale hurts, throat constricted and lungs weak from the prolonged exposure to such low temperatures. He glances up at the monumental door he's leaning against. He bets it's warm in there; with a crackling fireplace and soft beds. There's probably food too, and it takes a lot of self restraint not to give into his body's needs and knock on the door. He's already trespassing as it is, being some homeless kid seeking refuge on a complete stranger's doorstep. And living in a house like this? A wealthy and upper class stranger at that, who would shun and sneer at a dirty, broken child like him--maybe they'd even outright kick him off their porch. His limbs are tingling and his eyes are watering as the wind keeps assaulting them. The Nome is snuffling at him, two tiny hands pressing against his shoulders, like he's trying to get a good look at him. Making sure he's not frozen to death. </p><p>Then his world is spinning. </p><p>He falls backwards as the door he's leaning against suddenly opens. He's staring at the ceiling of a house, and there's a tall, thin blur standing at the head of his vision. It crouches down and his ears buzz with white noise, it's saying something, but his ears are ringing too loud to register it. His world flips again and he finds himself sitting upright against a firm yet soft surface. There's a thump as the door is shut. That black blur is now kneeling in front of him, mumbling something in hushed whispers, and then he disappears into thin air. He reappears not a moment later, carrying a towel and a thick blanket. The towel is draped over him and large yet incredibly gentle hands get rid of any excess water dripping from him. </p><p>He is enveloped in warmth when that blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. He instinctively pulls it tighter around himself and the Nome, still stuck to him, feeling his senses returning.</p><p><strong>"--RK, can you hear me?" </strong>A voice comes from above. RK warily tips his head up in response, squints at the figure in front of him. </p><p><strong>"RK," </strong>He repeats, concerned. </p><p>"...Mister Thin Man?" RK mumbles, confused, voice hoarse and strained. </p><p>The Thin Man cringes at the throaty sound. <strong>"Come with me." </strong>He insists, standing. It's only now RK realises he'd been sitting on the bottom step of a staircase and not somewhere comfier. He shuffles to his feet, cradling his Nome and following The Thin Man down the long hallway. His legs tremble and ache with every step and he collapses on his knees before he's even made it five centimetres. Black spots dance across his vision, bile stinging the back of his throat. Gently, a hand finds its way around him and he's lifted up and carried the remainder of the distance.<b></b></p><p>When he's set down again, he's sitting on a hard surface. From the various cupboards fixed to the walls and sink next to him, he assumes he's on a counter in a kitchen. The Thin Man is currently looking in a cupboard, for what RK doesn't know, but he's apparently found what he's looking for, taking out a blue box and opening it. A little white pill falls into the palm of his hand and RK understands. It's medicine. The Thin Man then grabs a small cup of water and sets both it and the medicine next to RK.</p><p><strong>"Take it, it'll make you feel better." </strong>RK complies, washing the medicine down with the water. The Thin Man leans back against the cupboard behind him, <strong>"I'm surprised you didn't get pneumonia, being out in weather like that."</strong></p><p>RK doesn't respond, opting to glance up at The Thin Man in brief acknowledgement.</p><p>
  <strong>"Do you want to tell me why you were out there? Why you were wandering The Pale City at eleven o'clock at night?"</strong>
</p><p>He's not interrogating nor judging. The Thin Man's voice is lax and patient, more concerned about RK's situation instead of being angry that he'd shown up a quivering mess on his doorstep. RK fiddles with the fabric of the blanket, trying to find words. It's not words that come out. It's tears. Stinging tears that are spilling because they've spent too long inside, and RK is too weak to keep them in there anymore. Tears that tell of all his agony, flowing rivers of bad memories and neglected needs. He cries because the bullies hurt him. He cries because The Teacher didn't believe in him. He cries because he wants comfort and he cries because he wants a home. He cries because he never got <em>either.</em></p><p>The Thin Man freezes. Now, The Thin Man is new to this parenting gig, and he's learning something new about it every day, but he's never been posed with a situation like this in all of his time caring for Mono. Of course, Mono's cried to him before, that's what kids do--they get upset and they seek comfort. But what RK is expressing isn't just upset, it's raw <em>anguish, </em>and damn if it doesn't hurt The Thin Man just watching this small boy, a boy who happens to be Mono's friend and he's familiar with no less, crumple like a fragile piece of paper. He supposes instances like this aren't something some parenting 101 book can prepare you for. One thing that is for sure however, is that RK is in a great deal of pain. What do you do when people are in pain? Console them, comfort them.</p><p>So that's exactly what he does. He pushes himself away from the cupboard and approaches RK slowly as not to spook him. When he's close enough, he leans down, and with one hand he places it on the small of RK's back and rubs tiny circles with his thin fingers. He shushes him and tells him it's fine, that he can let all of it out. The Thin Man isn't entirely sure he's doing a good job, but he realises he must be, when RK suddenly lets go of his Nome in favour of leaping at him. He clutches to him, fingers gripping into his suit. RK rests his head against his shoulder, sniffles and sobs quietening when he feels The Thin Man's hand on his back again, rubbing in that same comforting motion. Eventually, RK falls into silence, albeit still clinging to him.</p><p>A few moments later, there's the sound of tiny footsteps echoing down the hall. The Thin Man turns to the doorway to see a pyjama-clad Mono standing there, wringing his hands nervously. The Thin Man presses a finger to his lips, gesturing for him to be quiet. Mono comes ambling towards him anyway, tugging at his tailored pant leg, and with a sigh, he bends down and picks him up, Mono now attaching himself to the right side of his chest. He makes sure to maintain a distance between the two children though, he doesn't want Mono catching whatever cold RK's picked up. </p><p>"RK?" Mono's quiet voice comes then, "Are you okay?"</p><p>Still, RK says nothing. </p><p><strong>"He's had a rough day, Mono." </strong>The Thin Man whispers to him, <strong>"He's not feeling too well either, so I think I'll find somewhere for him to sleep. Is it alright if he borrows some of your clothes? His are soaked."</strong></p><p>Mono nods, "Of course! You can have anything you want, RK," </p><p>RK turns his head at that, now facing Mono. His eyes are red and puffy and his cheeks are flushed.</p><p>"Oh, I know what will cheer you up, too!" Mono exclaims then, "We can all watch some TV!"</p><p>The Thin Man frowns, <strong>"It's eleven o'clock. You should be in bed, not watching TV."</strong></p><p>Mono whines, "But I'm not tired! And hey--look, RK wants to, see!" </p><p>Sure enough, RK looks intrigued by the idea. </p><p>The Thin Man glances at them both, purses his lips, <strong><em>"One </em>episode. Then you're both going to sleep." </strong></p><p>After RK has been supplied a new change of clothes and is in a lot more stable state of mind, they retreat to the living room, where there is a large couch and a television perched in front of it. The Thin Man takes a seat and the two children follow suit. Mono ends up sitting on The Thin Man's lap, pointing the remote at the television and flicking through the channels so fast The Thin Man thinks he's going to have a seizure, whilst RK is a lot meeker in his approach. He sits next to The Thin Man, wrapped in a blanket and hugging his Nome.</p><p>When Mono finally stops on a channel, The Thin Man groans, <strong>"Mono, we watched this <em>yesterday."</em></strong></p><p>It's a cartoon series, one Mono appears to be enamoured with, "I know, but I really enjoyed it, can we please watch it again? It'll only be this one episode!"</p><p>
  <strong>"...Fine."</strong>
</p><p>RK observes Mono, his giddy smile as he watches the cartoon, how every so often he'll tap The Thin Man's arm and point at the screen when something cool happens. The Thin Man for the most part isn't paying attention to the show, probably because he already knows what happens in it, but he humours Mono every time he wants his attention. It's this interaction that makes RK realise how lucky he is to be sitting here with them tonight, how lucky he is that he didn't stumble upon some demented Viewer or other gnarly inhabitant of The Pale City. He was given warmth, medicine, comfort--and The Thin Man didn't turn him away once despite him being some sick and lonely kid. Mono had instantly came to ask him if he was alright and even offered him his clothes without any hesitation. </p><p>RK ends up sitting closer to The Thin Man.</p><p>And he smiles. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-i wrote this with a headache and also on 4 hours of sleep, finished it at midnight, and will go onto the next day, also with 4 hours of sleep</p><p>-because i don't know how to take care of myself and lack self control</p><p>-writing hurt/comfort instead of essays and doing assignments, priorities people geez</p><p>-remember when i said thin dad would adopt rk, i was not joking</p><p>-my boy deserves BETTER, HE DESERVES A LOVING FAMILY *slams desk aggressively*</p><p>-still can't watch the dlc ending without tearing up btw</p><p>-who knew a sausage could evoke so much emotion out of me </p><p>-ntm the music in the back of that ending--fucking hell it's emotional</p><p>-i wrote this whilst listening to, ironically enough, 'to build a home', helped set the mood and i feel like i just poured excessive amounts of angst onto the page. it's...happy angst though? it's got a nice ending at least</p><p>-mono being a good son for once, instead of a little shit; THAT'S WHAT WE CALL A CHARACTER ARC</p><p>-if you read this as soon as its been posted ignore any funky errors, its midnight and i need to ‘sleep’ and i’ll correct them in the morning</p></blockquote></div></div>
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